


the weight of living

by veidtous



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Some mature content, it's mainly fluff and cute things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veidtous/pseuds/veidtous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so many beautiful words out there for many different sensations and situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A

#  **agastopia**

> _an admiration of a particular part of someone's body._

“ **I like your lips.** ”

Though, ‘like’ seems like an understatement now. Marco smiles and Mario rolls his eyes. They’re sitting at the edge of a beach in some southern island with the sun setting behind their bodies giving an orange glow to an otherwise sea-foam green backdrop. “ **What do you mean ‘you like my lips’?** ”

“ **It means I like your lips, Sunny.** ” Mario gives him an apprehensive glance before looking back out at the ocean. The waves are calm and covered in white bubbles – there’s a seagull off to the side cawing at the sea mixing with the distant muffling of cars packing up for the day. Marco moves closer to him, putting his head against his shoulder and his hand around his wrist.

“ **Why?** ”

“ **Why what?** ” Marco sighs and closes his eyes; the breeze feels nice against the hot air around them. “ **C’mon Mario.** ” Marco grins against the slightly sunburnt shoulders of his boyfriend who, at the same moment, takes a deep breath and sighs. “ **Why do you like them?** ”

Marco opens one of his eyes and looks out at the ocean again. It’s clear and reflective and he thinks in that moment that everything seems _right_. There’s no pressure to succeed, no rumors or ill-will. There is just being, and happiness, and Mario. “ **I like them because,** ” Marco starts as he sits up quickly and puts his hands against Mario’s shoulders, pushing him into the white sand underneath them which elicits a surprising yelp out of the other. “ **Of the way they look, and I like how they look when you bite them when you’re nervous.** ” he continues as he bends down and puts his lips against Mario’s. They’re warm and sticky and taste like sweet coconut water.

“ **It means that I like the way they feel,** ” He kisses him again and feels Mario finally relax underneath him. He pauses for a brief moment before smiling once more. “ **I like how they feel against mine.** ” Marco closes his eyes and steals another quick kiss before propping himself up above Mario on his elbows. The sand is warm and soft and comforting and reminds him so much of Mario’s skin. “ **Got it?** ”

Mario smiles up at him and shoves one of his hands against Marco’s face. “ **You’re such a fucking sap.** ”

Marco rolls his eyes and smiles beside himself when he notices the pink hue on Mario’s cheeks. “ **Only ‘cause you made me that way.** ” There are so many things he likes about his Sunny that his lips are only the top of the metaphoric iceberg, and wonders if there are enough words to express that. Maybe in time he’ll learn them, but he knows Mario as well as Mario knows him – showing is more important than telling.

He bites the inside of Mario’s palm lightly before placing his head down on his chest. Mario’s heartbeat is moving in time with the waves behind them and Marco thinks everything will be okay from there on out. “ **Marco?** ” Marco closes his eyes as Mario calls him name, merely humming in reply. “ **I love you.** ” It’s simple and soft and Marco feels his own heart start to beat faster. They’ve said I love you to each other before, in more compromising and tender moments than this, but whenever Marco hears those words from Mario they never fail to make him race.

“ **I love you too.** ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alphabetical nonsense!!!
> 
> in my attempt to find more words i don't know/understand i made up a list a-z and wrote a different scenario for each. i wanted to try new things and get a better feel for more than comedy and tragedy (though, i am best at those i apologize).
> 
> xo
> 
> each chapter will be it's own letter and story!! the second chapter of my spies verse is almost finished too so look out for that.


	2. B

#  **basorexia**

> _a strong craving or hunger for kissing._

Marco’s sitting in the changing room with his hands on his knees. He knows he should be out congratulating the Bayern players, and giving encouraging pats on the backs of his Dortmund family but he can’t bring himself to do it yet. Defeat is still fresh in his wounds and seeing Mario celebrate only makes the cut go deeper.

He hears cleats clicking against the tile flooring but doesn’t bother to look up. He doesn’t want to hear that he did his best; he just wants to be alone.

“ **Hey.** ” Mario’s voice breaks through the otherwise silent locker room.

“ **Hi.** ” Marco doesn’t say anything further and keeps his head down, eyes focusing on a spot of dirt on the floor.

“ **You played really well today.** ”

“ **Thanks.** ” Mario stands in front of Marco, blocking his vision of the mud with his jersey in his hands. He knows Marco won’t return the same compliment, especially not since his move and he’s fine with that. He doesn’t want to hear it unless Marco means it anyway.

A moment of silence passes between them, nothing but the faint clicking of a clock on one of the walls resonates through the room. Mario shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his jersey still in his hands. “ **Marco?** ” he breaks the silence finally and Marco looks up despite his best efforts not to. Looking at Mario always brings him to some indescribable edge – he is a shining reminder of everything Marco enjoys in the world.

“ **We’re trading jerseys, so give me yours.** ” Mario doesn’t ask and Marco gives him a confusing look before peeling off his jersey and standing up. Mario is still shorter than him, but his hair is parted differently now and highlighted from the sun. He thinks maybe it’s sunnier in Munich, and how good it looks on Mario.

Marco shoves the jersey into Mario’s open hand and takes the other’s out of his hand quickly, clutching the sweaty fabric in his hands and hopes that Mario doesn’t notice that they’re shaking. “ **Are we done?** ” Marco knows his tone is harsh but he doesn’t want to be around Mario, at least not now. “ **No.** ” Mario doesn’t move from his spot and Marco has had enough. There is a million different thoughts running through his mind – how Mario looks thinner now (and decides he doesn’t like it much), how his skin always seems to shines even under the buzzing florescent lights, how he wants nothing more than to just reach out and –

He settles on the last thought and grabs a hold of Mario’s shoulders and pushes him against the lockers behind them. “ **Marco –** ” Marco shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about _whatever_ with Mario right now, he just wants to feel and act and let out his sense of frustration in the only way he knows how. Mario puts his hands on Marco’s chest and Marco puts his hands on either side of Mario’s face and lets their lips touch.

Their kiss taste like sweat and Gatorade, like win and loss, and _loss_. It tastes like longing.

Marco realizes there’s never a moment where he doesn’t want to kiss Mario senselessly.

They stay like that for nine minutes before Mario leaves still clutching Marco’s jersey, and hopes that no one notices how red his lips are.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here is B!! i was like i could go sad with this but eHHH i'm saving that for a certain couple of words.
> 
> i'll try to get these out pretty quickly since i don't plan on letting them get too long.
> 
> thanks as always xo


	3. C

#  **cryptoscopophilia**

 

> _the urge to secretly look through the windows of homes upon walking past them._

> _Send to:_ _Sunny 12:03pm  
>hey u home??? the correct answer is yes marco I am please come over_

_> Send to: Marco 12:05pm  
>“yes marco I am please come over”_

_> Send to: Sunny 12:08pm  
> _ _❤❤❤_

Marco leaves the team’s hotel hidden crudely beneath a pair of sunglasses and a cap. He almost makes it out of the building without being seen until Mats meets him at the exit with his arms crossed over his chest. “ **Where are you going?** ” Marco tries to hide his grin and pulls on the rim of his hat. “ **Out. Gotta get some air, ya’know…** ” He peeks up at Mats who looks at him disapprovingly.

“ **I’ll go with you then.** ”

“ **No.** ”

“ **Uh-huh, thought so.** ” Mats says and Marco swears he hears the words ‘I thought that’s where you were going’. Marco rolls his eyes and looks down at his phone – it’s going to take him at least fifteen minutes to get to Mario’s place on the other end of the city. “ **Can you lecture me later? It’s Thursday and I got about a half an hour left before – ”** Marco stops himself as Mats squints his eyes. “ **Before _what?_** ”

Marco moves past him quickly and flicks him the finger. Marco’s positive Mats doesn’t want to know the answer.

The drive isn’t as bad as he thought it might have been and along the way Marco finds himself looking into the windows of the passing houses. He spots a child playing with what might be an older sibling; they’ve got toys in their hands and one of them is yelling something he can’t read. Another holds the view of red curtains drawn across the window but he can still make out the flashes of a television screen. The car behind him honks their horn and he hurries down the rest of the street.

He parks down the street and walks along the tree canopy sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He climbs the stairs to Mario’s place and looks down at his phone which reads twelve twenty in neon blue. “ **Thank god.** ” He breathes and peaks into the window to spot his boyfriend still in his work out shorts (always the white pair and Marco can’t thank whatever god enough for making them a reality) dancing to some melody he can’t make out through the glass.

Thursday is when Mario works out.

Marco rubs his hands down the front of his pants as the temptation to place his hands on the glass and lean in arises as it always does whenever he’s not in the room with Mario to touch him directly. But he needs to touch _something_ so the material of his pants will have to do for the time being as his eyes stay fixated on Mario.

He licks his lips and Mario keeps rotating his hips. It’s starting to be too much (but then again, when isn’t it?).

His hand goes to his junk, grabbing and moving it around. Marco sighs.

“ ** _Oh my god,_ Marco seriously, you’re a professional at least wait till you’re inside _._** ”

André is standing there with an amused look on his face and bags in his hands.

“ **I was just adjusting myself!** ”

“ **Uh-huh. Well adjust yourself later it's movie time.** ”

Thursday is also movie night when André, Mario, and Marco are in the same town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had C written up before i even published A haha i told y'all the dancing thing was going to make a come back.
> 
> i'll literally sprinkle it everywhere.
> 
> partition.mp3 plays in the distance
> 
> xo as always!


	4. D

#  **dor**

> _a deep and nostalgic feeling of sadness, agony and emptiness experienced upon intensely missing, longing, and yearning for something or someone._

Brazil is sticky and humid and Mario isn’t used to being in an environment like this for this long. He wakes up in an empty bed each morning drenched in sweat and wonders why he never turns on the air conditioner before he goes to bed. At home the unit is either always on or a window is left open to let the cool breeze in in early spring and in late fall - Mario’s used to that kind of living.

But he’s also used to Marco being the one to create that comfortable way of living.

He looks up at the white washed ceiling and traces his fingers with his lips. He didn’t want to come to Brazil without him. It didn’t feel right to board the plane without him, and it felt wrong not seeing his crooked smile after they land and make some idiotic joke with Andre. It didn’t seem right to sleep in this bed and wake up alone, and it didn’t seem right to train for gold without the most important piece of his life right there beside him.

Mario runs his finger over his lower lip and swallows. Marco’s probably up by now, it would be okay to call him.

He grabs his phone, dresses quickly, and takes off for one of the gardens around the national team’s living arrangements before finding the number in his contacts and sending the call. It rings a couple of times before Marco finally picks up; he’s out of breath but the way he says ‘ _Hey Mario_ ’ into the phone makes Mario’s heart swell.

He misses Marco so very much.

Mario doesn’t reply the favor of a cordial hello, he doesn’t ask if he’s interrupting and if he’s caught Marco at a bad time - instead he grips the phone a little tighter and turns his back to the sun rising in the sky. “ **I miss you.** ”

They’re past the honeymoon phase of their relationship. It’s been years since they were nothing more than longing glances and lingering touches with no vocalization about the meaning behind it all. They were a pair now with slivers of each other’s love between the cracks in their being and that is why Mario feels like he’s splintering now without him by his side.

“ _I miss you too._ ”

He sighs at the tone of Marco’s voice, soft and sweet in a tone that’s used just for him. “ **When I get back can we go to Italy for a couple of weeks?** ” He knows Marco won’t tell him no.

“ _You don’t think you’ll be sick of the sun after you win the world cup?_ ”

Mario rolls his eyes and his stomach does flips. “ **Not even.** ” Marco is always so encouraging, even after so many up’s and down’s. He takes his lower lip between his teeth and worries it before clearing his throat. “ **So… How’s your therapy going?** ”

Marco goes quiet for a moment and Mario wonders if he should have just saved it for later. He’s not there to read Marco’s face and gauge how to approach the conversation and he starts to feel anxious. But after a couple seconds Marco sighs and puts the phone back against his ear. “ _It’s fine, just takin’ it slow right now._ ”

Mario hums and looks around the hotel. Maybe he could come back here with Marco in a couple years. “ **I gotta go, people are starting to wake up but Marco whatever goals I score, they’re for you.** ” He hears Marco laugh and he can’t stop himself from joining in.

“ _They better be some spectacular goals then._ ”  
  
“ **Only the best for you.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay on this letter! my computer finally died at the end of a very long week so i went into 'fuck all this shit' mode @___@ but i've bought a new one and it's the weekend so all is well again!
> 
> thank you for reading xo


	5. E

#  **egrote**

> _to feign sickness in order to avoid work.  
>  _

“ _I can’t make practice today. No, yeah, I know I won’t get to play the game but I really can’t make it today. No I don’t need someone to bring me something it’s fine. No, really, it’s fine! I’ll see you tomorrow!_ ” Marco pulls his head away, pausing just long enough to hear Mats shout his name from the speaker before pressing the end button. He quickly checks the time on his phone before making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up, decidedly not as sick as he had just claimed (or at all, for that matter). Mario is in town on a short holiday and seeing his boyfriend after a month of skype calls and lengthy text messages was much more pleasing in Marco’s mind.

He brushes his teeth, turns on the coffee pot that will no doubt be ignored, and flops down on the sofa with his phone on his chest idly watching television until Mario gets there.

Roughly half an hour later, and almost asleep on the sofa with some commercial about chocolate playing in the background, Marco hears the sounds of keys in the lock tumbler and shoots up. His phone goes flying as he runs to the door, a crooked smirk on his face when he sees Mario open the door and jumps. “ **Jesus Marco.** ” he says and puts a hand on his chest. “ **Nice to see you too Sunny.** ” Marco says as he reaches out, wraps his hand around Mario’s wrist, and drags him inside.

The moment the door closers Marco is hovering in front of him with his neck bent, lips searching for pieces of Mario’s skin with his hands holding onto Mario’s hips as his fingers loop in the belt holes of his pants. “ **How’d you convince Mats to let you stay home?** ” Mario laughs and links his arms around Marco’s neck, who laughs breathy against Mario’s neck. “ **Told him I was sick.** ” he replies between short little kisses. “ **And he believed you?** ” Mario’s tone tells Marco even he wouldn’t believe the story.

“ **I can be a _very_ good liar when I need to be.** ”

“ **Uh-huh.** ” Mario rolls his eyes and wiggles out of Marco’s grasp. He’s got a bag filled with what looks to be movies, candy, and a couple bags of microwavable popcorn. It’s going to be a day spent inside, just the two of them no doubt marathoning the Jurassic Park movies and eating, and Marco can’t think of anything he’d rather do.

Well.

His eyes scan Mario up and down as he walks to the kitchen watching the way the muscles move in his legs and how his hips practically sway with each step. Marco’s hand goes to his crotch, grabs and readjusts himself through his sweatpants. Yeah, there’s something he’d rather do. “ **Hey Mario, come back in here. Let’s finish watching what’s on now before we start something new.** ” He peers over towards the kitchen where he hears the rustling stop. A moment passes before Mario comes out with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smile on his face. “ **Still a shit liar.** ” But Marco grins and gestures to the couch.

“ **Not true. I’m actually very sick.** ” Marco says in a pathetic voice once Mario sits down beside him. “ **I’m lovesick.** ”

Mario rolls his eyes and shoves Marco to the other side of the couch. “ **Can you be any more lame?** ” Marco grins, nods, and grabs onto Mario pulling him against his chest. “ **Totally. How about…** ” he trails off for a second to slide his hands underneath the hem of Mario’s shirt and almost sighs in time with Mario when their skin connects. It’s been too long. “ **Oh Mario I don’t know how I made it this far without you -** ” Marco’s cut short when Mario’s hand covers his mouth.

“ **God shut up Marco.** ”

Marco grins against Mario’s hand and bites the inside of his palm gently. Joking aside, in the part of his mind that isn’t still thinking about Mario’s ass, he realizes that all he was saying is true. He is in love with Mario, and almost ridiculously so. “ **Make me.** ” he says and this time it’s Mario who grins and grabs the sides of his face and pulls him over so their lips meet.

It starts out slow - tongues brushing lazily against one another as their hands cup each others faces. They don’t need to rush like their early Dortmund years where hands would quickly grope and pull at bodies before the rest of the team came down the tunnel. For the rest of the day the only place they need to be is with each other. Marco tilts his head back and Mario sighs contently.

“ **Lay down.** ” Marco says and Mario nods, laying back on the sofa with his legs dangling off the side. He smiles up at Marco and Marco mimics Mario’s content sigh from before. These are the moments that make the distance worth it; just having Mario around him is enough to satisfy the innate craving for love. He nudges Mario’s legs apart and settles between them as he trails his lips along Mario’s neck. He smells like soap with faint traces of the cologne Marco had picked out for him with their friends last Christmas.

His hands move up Mario’s thighs and absentmindedly admires how the muscles quiver under his touch. Mario whispers his name and Marco smiles against his neck. He presses a small kiss underneath his ear as his fingers hook into the hem of Mario’s pants and pull them down. (God bless sweatpants). Marco trails his nose down the front of Mario’s chest and stops once he reaches his waist, leaving a kiss on each of protruding hip bones before going to the inside of his thighs.

Mario starts to squirm with each kiss Marco plants on him. “ **Already hard Sunny?** ” Marco says against his hip again, his nose brushing the small patch of hair above Mario’s crotch. Mario groans and Marco’s sure he’s rolling his eyes. “ **You cheat.** ”

“ **I barely did anything yet.** ” He laughs and Mario groans again. “ **Just relax babe, I got’cha.** ” Marco leaves one last kiss on Mario’s hip before wrapping his lips around the head of Mario’s cock.

Marco starts to bob his head up and down still not in any rush despite the urgent way Mario’s hands grip his hair. He hums and Mario gasps - his hands tighten against Marco’s scalp and Marco hollows out his cheeks. Mario’s breathing picks up and the room starts to smell like sweat and body wash.

Mario is repeating Marco’s name like a broken record now that’s stuck on the same familiar song of passion with an undertone of love and devotion. The air around Marco is sticky and he feels high from Mario’s high.

“ **Marco -** ” He cums with Marco’s name on his lips and Marco’s lips around him. Marco swallows and rubs the corner of his mouth as he removes Mario from his mouth and shoots him a crooked smile.

“ **We missed the end of the movie.** ” Mario says between laboring breaths.  
  
“ **Who gives a shit.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i was writing E to be just silly and then it turned this. i was also going to have this out yesterday but i went to see jurassic world instead \o/
> 
> thanks as always xo


	6. F

#  **fernweh**

> _a crave for travel; being homesick for a place you've never been._

“ **Where are we even going?** ” Mario rubs his eyes and leans against Marco as the train continues to press forward. Marco had woken them up at about four in the morning and Mario, too tired to put his things together or on for that matter, had Marco dress him and pull him onto the train when they got to the station.

Marco smiles down at Mario as he yawns again and puts his arm around his waist. They both have hats on with the brims tilted down to try and keep their faces hidden, but at this time of morning Marco doubts anyone will recognize them. But better to be safe than sorry, especially today. He looks around. There is a person who looks to be asleep against the window a couple feet away from them, and another on their phone at the other end of the cart. For once no one is paying any attention to them.

“ **It’s a surprise.** ” Marco replies and smiles more when Mario rolls his eyes and yawns again. “ **Of course it is.** ” Marco nudges him slightly and Mario grunts.

Outside it’s a whirlwind of colors and shapes; there’s some sort of windmill way off in the distance with open fields surrounding it and Marco feels his heart tighten. This is all new territory - this is a place he has never seen before, never breathed the air or heard the sounds and he longs to stop the train now and get off and just wander.

But he doesn’t.

Instead he nudges Mario again who grunts louder and looks up at him with a pointed expression. Marco grins at him, crookedly, and bends down to kiss him. “ **Marco we’re in public.** ” Mario’s voice is warning and Marco just shakes his head. “ **No one’s paying attention to us.** ” The two people in their car are too busy to look at two people in their own world and Marco can’t think of a better time to try and kiss his boyfriend.

Mario sighs and wraps one of his hands in Marco’s shirt. “ **If you say so.** ” Marco grins at the acceptance and lets their lips meet. Mario tastes like the world looks like passing by them. He tastes like an open field and fresh air in early spring, like melting sugar and fried treats in late June. He tastes like Home, like Love, like he is both his own self and Marco’s.

They part and Mario smiles up at him and Marco calls him his Sunny under his breath.

“ **You sure you can’t tell me where we’re going?** ”

“ **Nope.** ” Marco replies and shakes his head before putting his chin down on the top of Mario’s head.

“ **Marco.** ” Mario whines and Marco puts his body against Mario’s and loops both his arms around his waist.

“ **Can’t.** ”

“ **Did you make another bet with André? Because so help me -** ” Marco shushes him before he finishes. “ **I can’t tell you where we’re going because I don’t know either. I just bought train tickets to the first place I didn’t recognize.** ”

He can see Mario’s exasperated expression in the mirror and tilts his head to kiss the golden crown of his head. “ **It’ll be fine Sunny, just as long as we’re together.** ”  
  
Mario relaxes and leans back against Marco. His hands move and interlace with Marco’s against his waist tucking his head back under his chin. “ **But did we have to get up so early?** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a cute little thing for F! rating is difficult because it just rates the overall story instead of the individual chapters haha oh well. this one is a bit short but it's sweet.
> 
> i'm going away this weekend so there won't be any more updates until next week but thanks for reading as always xo


	7. G

#  **gumusservi**

> _the light of the moon as it shines upon the water._

Mario’s skin is like spun gold in summer, it absorbs the light and shoots it back against Marco like hot hot heat. There are days when it hurts to touch and then there are days that it is the only sense of warmth he can reach. His teeth are like chiseled diamonds that shoot back the rays of his skin whenever Marco shows his own crooked set.

His smile is worth more than anything Marco could ever pay for.

Mario’s eyes reflect the light of the moon like seawater, like crystal clear pools that Marco can see his entire world in. They mimic his happiness, his sadness, his fears, and his dreams. And there is something else in them too. It isn’t longing, it isn’t need, it isn’t jealousy or lust.

It looks suspiciously like love and Marco can feel himself falling further and further down the rabbit hole that leads to a world revolving entirely around Mario. It used to feel like drowning - like Marco had no other chance but to cling onto Mario and hope that it would be okay, but now it feels like gravity has left the surface and he is floating in space around Mario’s heart.

Mario’s voice is the sweetest tone Marco's has ever heard. It’s weightless and excitable, and to Marco it seems like someone made chocolate a sound rather than a taste. Hearing his name emerge from the vibrating cords in Mario’s throat is the only thing he needs to hear throughout the day to feel content. As long as he can hear Mario speak in any capacity he feels he never has to eat another sweet again.

Mario’s lips are like new discoveries on Mars. They water, shine, dry, and crack. They hold secrets back and let declarations past through them like an unforeseen sandstorm. His honesty brushes against Marco’s skin like moon rocks and asteroids in a field in a frenzy. They wound on contact, but in the next moment they are gone and the dents have time to heal.

And his touch -

His touch is something Marco has no apt description for. His fingers tangle in Marco’s hair when they make love sending sparks into the roots of his follicles and into his brain that Mario is there, attentive, and in love with him. Mario’s nails ghost across the slight uprising of his ribs in his chest when they lay in bed and talk about their days and Marco has a hard time concentrating.

He wants Mario to sink his fingers into his being and pull out his heart, and kiss the broken pieces whole once again.

But perhaps he already has.

Mario’s heart is like a ravine of pure spring water and wildlife. There are days when Marco feels like toxic waste to an otherwise wonderful landscape, but Mario’s heart bleeds fresh blood and it spills over whatever pain Marco has caused. He heals.

Marco is not a Wise man, he isn’t a Strong man, but he isn’t a Weak man either. He is a simply a Man; human and full of faultlines and tremors.

But Mario’s ears hear his splintering and he coos to him in a tone so sweet Marco can’t help but bend and forgive himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> home and here is G! i'm going to go through and add some notes at the beginning of each chapter with the genre of each so it's easier to be prepared~
> 
> this one wasn't really a specific ~time~ rather marco just observing mario. this could honestly fit into the 'Skin' verse i did now that i think about it.
> 
> xo thanks for reading!


	8. H

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: cheating

#  **herzschmerz**

> _heartache; an emotional pain in the heart._

Mario is sitting in his car with his face in his hands. It’s two in the morning and there are tears streaming down his face. The sight of Marco on top of another person is still burning behind his eyes.

What hurts him the most is that the other man looks just like him. Mario bites down on the palm of his hand to keep quiet. He can’t attract attention, he can’t ever attract attention.

 _This can’t be happening to me_ , he thinks. This can’t be happening to _us_.

Mario lets out a strangling cry, his hands feel heavy. His vision is blurring when he look down at his swollen hands to spot the gold band on his finger. He thought it was ugly but Marco had wanted gold. He had wanted gold for _his_ Sunny. With shaky fingers Mario slowly removes the ring from his finger.

He doesn’t want to look at it; he doesn’t want to think about it. Another cry leaves his throat and he puts the ring down on the dashboard of his car. Mario’s phone is buzzing with Marco’s face and it only cuts the wound deeper. The first call goes ignored; Mario takes a couple of shaky breaths, hoping that Marco won’t try again.

But of course he does and Mario scolds himself for not knowing better. He doesn’t pick up the second call, but when the third comes he does.

“ _Mario, Sunny, please listen to me,” Marco’s voice is fast and desperate and Mario feels cold. His hands are still shaking. “It’s not what it looked like I promise, please come back I lo–_ ”

Mario drops his phone against the floor of the car and cries out. He can’t hear those words now.

He knows that Marco is still pleading with him through the phones, knows all too well the tone of voice that his Marcinho is using to try and lure him back. It always works and that’s why Mario can’t hear it.

There are fresh tears in his eyes again. He loves Marco so very much.

But it isn’t enough.

A broken vow echoes through Mario’s mind in time with a passing car. The sound slowly dies out and Mario feels his hair stand on end. He’s not angry, just numb. His car is still lit by the dim screen of his cellphone on the ground and tells him that Marco hasn’t hung up yet. But he doesn’t want to speak to him, can’t speak to him.

The knife he that was carefully placed above his bent neck in trust has had its strings cut by the same man he had given the scissors to.

So Mario grips the steering wheel, pushes his face into the leather and sobs against a dull blue gaze under his chin.

“ _Mario? Sunny I can still hear you please pick the phone back up let me talk to you! It’s not what it looked like. Sunny please talk to me. Sunny -_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's H! i wrote this up a while ago and made some tweaks but i needed to have some not happy letters too hahahaha just listen to 'i'm not the only one' by sam smith when you read this.
> 
> xo thanks as always!


	9. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: inception au

#  **inspirare**

> _latin root of 'inspiration'; to instill something in the heart or in the mind of someone._

What’s in a kick?

Mario sits down in front of Marco. The rest of their team has gone to scope out the building in question - to find whatever exits they might be able to take, what kind of security will be waiting for them, and how long it will take for them to extract their target. That leaves Mario and Marco to prepare; the teams Architect and Extractor respectfully.

" **Well. You ready?** " Marco sounds calm and Mario feels his hands calm.

" **Ready as I’ll ever be.** "

It’s the first job that Mario’s been brought on as their new Architect, the last having befallen a series of unfortunate events that put a bullet between his eyes. Mario hopes history isn’t prone to repeating itself. At least not in this case. His hands start to shake.

So many things can go wrong in such a short amount of time. The dream can fail and land them in a purgatory with the look of paradise, a maze to wander aimlessly for the rest of their mental lives while their bodies waste and wither away. A place that will inevitably crash and burn and leave them in a smoldering mess all alone.

It takes one slip up to send the team into oblivion. It takes one slip up to lose _Marco_ forever.

" **You’ll be there right? The whole time.** " Mario can’t help but hide his worry now. Marco’s features soften as his hand reaches out and wraps around Mario’s.

" **Where am I gonna go, huh? You’re making this place, so you’ll always know where I am.** "

Marco’s right - whatever Mario does to set up their world for the heist revolves around the plan he sets up. Their second world is nothing but a fabrication - something illusory that he, at the end of the day, has full control. He can bend the walls of buildings, cause seas to rise and fall with the tempo of his breath, and he can create stone paths for Marco to follow back to him.

But the terror is still rising in him like a body being weighed down in quicksand.

" **One wrong move and you -** " Marco stops him with a squeeze.

" **It’s not gonna happen Sunny. C’mon, you’re too good to send me into some weird purgatory bullshit. Besides, if you do we’ll be stuck listening to André complain for literally ever.** "

Mario laughs and Marco smiles at him crookedly. " **And hey, if something does go wrong,** " he starts and Mario sends him a warning glare. Marco’s grin widens and he leans across the space between them, hovering just in front of Mario’s face. " **And we get stuck in there forever, at least we’ll be there together, right?** " He says before closing the remaining gap between their lips.

Mario feels calm wash over him, like a sense of tranquility has finally come to his quaking mind. It’s Marco’s voice that grounds him; it’s the way his lips brush against Mario’s and the way his stubble leaves small red x’s and o’s on his chin and neck.

" **C’mon Sunny, we gotta go.** " Marco says reluctantly as he breaks away and stands. Mario bites his lip and reaches out for Marco who sighs and bends back down. " **If we get in trouble I will throw you under the bus.** " Mario shrugs and kisses Marco again when he feels his lover’s hands on his knees. The kiss lasts only another moment before they break and both stand up.

" **Got your totem?** " Mario nods and fishes his wedding ring out of his pocket, holding it up for Marco to see.

" **Never leave home without it.** " Mario replies as Marco clasps his hand around Mario’s wrist.

" **Better not lose that Sunny.** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi remember me i promise i'm not dead!! my muse has been wonky and i've been super busy with real life stuff but i think that's started to settle itself out so i'm gonna try to get these out again now that football has started up again 
> 
> thank you, as always xo


	10. J

#  **jayus**

> _a joke so poorly told and so unfunny that one cannot help but laugh._

“Three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

The karaoke room fills with cheers, the bodies come together on the circle sofa in a mass of limbs and legs with the sound of ‘What’s Up’ playing in the background. It’s the beginning of a new year, a fresh start for the people currently on top of one another. Mats and Benni let up first, throwing their arms around each other as they settle back in their seats and talk about ordering another round of drinks. André, Montana, and Ann wiggle out of each others grasp next and laugh about the two left in each others arms.

Mario is red in the face, out of breath underneath a laughing Marco who's got his hands tangled in Mario’s hair with their foreheads pressing against one another. They let their eyes meet before their lips do, searching pupils for the love they know will be reflecting in their lovers. The kiss is short and sweet, unhurried and relaxed knowing that no one can see them besides their friends. It feels natural, a sense of halcyon even and they only break apart when André’s off-key singing resonates through the room.

“Twenty-five years and my life is still trying to get up that great big hill of hope. For a destination -”

Mario laughs against Marco’s lips before the taller climbs off him and throws his arm around André’s shoulder. He leans into the microphone as Mario sits up and leans against Ann who has started laughing with the rest of their friends. “I realized quickly when I knew I should that the world was made up of this brotherhood of man, for whatever that means.”

It’s almost as off as André’s is, but no one in the room seems to care. They’re all too content, all too drunk to even voice anything besides encouraging shouts and teasing whistles. The group listens to the duo sing their horrific song, only joining in for the chorus as their arms link with one another or go across their shoulders.

“And I say, hey hey hey hey, I said hey, what's going on?!”

It’s around one thirty in the morning when the group calls it quits for the sake of sleep and for the healthy functions of their livers. Mats and Benni grab a cab with Ann, and André and Montana go off on their own leaving Mario and Marco huddling close together against the cold January air as they start walking down the street towards their hotel. The streets are empty, the neighbor still buzzing slightly with the sound of people celebrating in the privacy of their own homes or bars and Mario takes the opportunity to throw one of his hands into Marco’s jacket pocket and link their fingers.

“Hey Sunny,” Marco starts as they continue their walk with scarves shielding their mouths from the wind. “Wanna hear a joke?”

Mario laughs next to him and bumps their shoulders together.

“Not really because it’s totally gonna be one of those lame ones that André taught you.”

Marco scoffs and shoves Mario back.

“Not even! I would never go to André for joke advice. He’s got the humor of a sea sponge.”

“Is that a Spongebob joke?”

“Focus Sunny.” Marco scolds and gives Mario another shove.

“Alright alright, what’s the joke?”

Marco looks at Mario and stops them in the middle of the sidewalk. Mario knows the smiles that Marco’s giving him behind his scarf, knows how the corner of his mouth rising up higher on the right side compared to the left, and how the faintest outline of dimples appear the wider he smiles. He knows the shape of his teeth and the color of his lips and knows that his eyes crinkle ever-so-slightly at the edges.

“What do you call a bear with no teeth?”

Mario gives him a warning glance, wobbling slightly against Marco from the cold and liquor still heavy in his system.  “What.” He replies trying to mentally prepare himself for the lameness that’s sure to follow.

Marco pauses for a moment, leaning down so his face is level with Mario’s.

“A gummy bear.”

It takes all but two seconds for Mario to start laughing, the terrible joke too bad for him not to break out of Marco’s gravitation and lean against the nearest building holding the sides of his body as his cheeks turn red. “That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard you say!” He shouts as he covers his face with his hands.

He can hear Marco laughing in front of him, can feel him step and stop on either sides of his feet, and it’s only when he feels Marco’s hands on his own that his laughter dies down to a quiet chuckle as his boyfriend moves them away from his face. Marco leans down once he can see Mario’s face again, now red from embarrassment and the whipping winds of Germany. He lets their foreheads touch again and brushes their noses together slightly.

“Happy New Year my Sunny.” he says softly and Mario wraps his arms around Marco’s neck.

“Happy New Year Marchinho.”  
  
They share another kiss, this one gaining more traction than the ones at the karaoke bar, and once they break they grab each others hands and take off running back to their hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's j! i just always love the idea of new years eve things and how there always seems to be even a little bit of happiness at the prospect of a new year. 
> 
> i always have a wonderful time with my friends so i thought of writing this for marco and mario!
> 
> i'll be posting two new one shots soon once i finish them. i want to try writing more than 2/3k so hopefully they'll be longer stories.
> 
> thank you as always! xo
> 
> ps. please listen to the song 'what's up' by 4 non blondes!! it will put you in such a good mood


	11. K

#  **karelu**

> _the mark left on the skin by wearing something that is too tight._

Mario didn’t think much about Marco asking to borrow one of his shirts. After the move to Bayern, most of Marco’s clothing stayed in Dortmund for convenience sake but there were always certain circumstances that cause Marco to curse under his breath when he gets up the next morning in a rush without a change of clothing. Mario insists that he can just tell whoever he has to meet to wait another hour or so so he has time to put his clothing in the washer, but Marco always complains and leaves with one of Mario’s shirts that bunch up underneath his armpits and along his chest.

“Pick a different shirt.” Mario says as he looks over at Marco getting dressed from the bed.

“Why?”

“I can see your nipples.” Mario replies, reaching up lazily with one hand and flicking Marco’s stomach.

“Glad your eyesight's still twenty-twenty Sunny.” Marco responds as he rolls his eyes. The shirt has started to bunch up around his midriff and Marco sighs, trying to roll down the fabric with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t go back now. I’ll probably have to cut this damn thing off later.”

“Don’t you dare. I like that shirt.” Marco sighs again and throws his arms down at his side. He needs to be at the airport in an hour for check-in to be able to make the flight back to Dortmund, his weekend with Mario cut short for a last minute change of practice plans. It’s not that he wants to go back; with the season starting up again he sees less of Mario in the flesh, and while he wants nothing more than to roll the shirt back up over his head and crawl back under the covers with Mario and kiss him senseless, they both know they have other responsibilities.

Maybe in the future they won’t have to organize their time together, Marco thinks. He hopes at least.

He sighs for the third time in five minutes before looking back at Mario. Sweet, sunny Mario Götze laying naked on his bed with tousled hair and sore lips with teeth marks that spell out Marco’s name. Marco feels his heart swell and knows there’s a smile on his face from the way Mario’s own face starts to light up. “So it only takes like, twenty minutes to get to the airport from here…” Mario trails off, looking at Marco’s exposed stomach to the spot beside him on the bed.

“Fine, but if I’m late you’re buying my new plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

It doesn’t take Marco longer than a couple seconds before he’s back on the bed, Mario’s hands already on his stomach feeling the defined muscles from years of exercise. He sighs as Mario’s fingers work underneath the balled up fabric and takes a breath as his boyfriend works to pull it back over his head. “Jesus christ Marco you look like you fell asleep on one of those indoor-outdoor carpets.”

It’s when the shirt’s finally off him and lying on the edge of the bed that Marco can breathe in deep. “It’s a miracle, I can breathe again.”

Mario rolls his eyes and Marco grins as he rolls on top of him. He doesn’t do anything at first, doesn’t say anything as Mario’s hands find their way up his spine and into his uncombed hair. He doesn’t move when nails graze along his stubbled jaw and across his lips. He does move however, when Mario’s fingers part his lips slightly, his mouth opening enough to take up to the first knuckle between his teeth.

The city’s coming alive outside Mario’s window. They can hear the sound of cars starting up, people chatting, the sound muffled through the glass and pulled blinds. Mario’s room is still dark for the most part, the only light coming through the cracks in the blinds that find only certain parts of their two bodies. A sliver of sun on Mario’s lips, another slice against the spot where his and Marco’s hips are touching, and a tiny speckle on the side of Marco’s face.

It’s just enough to see the other - just enough to reassure that the warmth is real and not some kind of dream.

He bites down on Mario’s finger and the latter laughs breathlessly. “Kiss me.” Mario says quietly and Marco grins, sliding up Mario’s body slightly and putting their foreheads together causing blond hair to mix with brown.

“Make me.” Marco whispers back, lips ghosting over top of Mario’s. He feels Mario’s hands grip his hair harder, pulling on the ends with a loving force before crashing their lips together and it takes everything in Marco to not break away, call Dortmund and say he’ll be a day late with some bullshit excuse, and just get lost in Mario again. Mario’s teeth sink into his lower lip and Marco closes his eyes, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead back down against Mario’s. “Fuck, I love when you do that.”

“What else do you love?”

Where does Marco even begin? There’s the way Mario smiles when Marco arrives at his door for one of their weekends, and there’s the way his nose crinkles ever-so-slightly when Marco won’t forfeit his sweatshirt on colder nights. There’s the thing Mario’s doing with his fingers now; trailing up and down his neck barely going over the top bone of his spine with light, feathery touches, and how his lips have found and started to nurse one of the faded bruises left from a few nights ago in his mouth again.

Then there’s just Mario. Marco just loves him in all simplicity and complexity.

“I love you.” Marco whispers against the side of Mario’s face and he feels the acceptance from Mario when his teeth sink into his skin again. He moans and Mario bites him again. “I love you too.” Comes a verbal reply from his smaller boyfriend, face against his neck, and Marco shudders when his breath meets his skin. His body has started to gooseflesh and he can feel Mario’s arousal against his own.

“We only have twenty minutes now.”

“I can make that work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by that [hideous shirt](http://s7.favim.com/orig/150415/mario-gotze-marco-reus-gotzeus-gotzemario-Favim.com-2652037.jpg) that mario wears all the time that marco wore in a photo once that looked w a y too tight to be his.
> 
> i'm also mourning no IB stuff. goodbye my soul.
> 
> thanks for the love as always xo


	12. L

#  **lalochezia**

> _the emotional relief gained from using abusive or profane language._

A broken toe means he won’t be getting a call up for this break. So Marco stays quiet.

He lets on that he’s fine after the match, bites his tongue when he walks on it, smiles through the pain when they have him do tests, and thanks whatever lucky stars he has when they haven’t look over his feet yet. But the voice in the back of Marco’s head tells him they’ll find out sooner or later, and later means doing more damage to it then it’s probably worth.

After various pleas, André agrees not to say anything. He looks unhappy about the deal and tells Marco he needs to get it checked out before it gets worse and Marco makes a promise that once International Duty is over, he will.

When he’s back in Dortmund, when he’s wearing yellow instead of white, and when he’s far away from Mario then he’ll get rest. -But for now he wants to submerge himself in everything that is small boyfriend. It takes all but a couple seconds after they’ve been dropped off in their room before his bags are on the ground and his hands are in Mario’s hair, tilting his head back to make space for his lips.

The start of the season is always the hardest part, they’ve come to understand that but seeing each other after that initial hump is always the sweetest.

Mario laughs against him and runs his hands underneath Marco’s shirt, fingertips trailing against the sweaty skin he finds there. “I missed you too.” he says and Marco hums. They never had to use words with one another; looks and touch and slight gestures had always been the easiest way for them to communicate. It just works, and they never felt the reason to question it. Marco pulls back and nudges Mario back into the room more, their foreheads touching and smiles mimicking one another until Mario falls back onto the one bed.

“So who’d you have to trade with to get us together?” Mario asks as he props himself up on his arms.

Marco climbs on top of him and starts pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “André and it was probably the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life. He kept going on about not wanting to be around us so.” he shrugs and Mario laughs. Their favorite third amigo had his limit of course, and while he loved them both individually and together, in his words; ‘there are some things I just don’t wanna see.’

Mario’s hands find Marco’s hair, pulling on the now ginger strands before letting Marco pull the shirt off his back. Love temporarily becomes overshadowed by lust as Mario’s teeth nurse his lower lip, eyes following the way Marco’s muscles move as he takes off the rest of their clothing, unrushed and almost gentle.

Skin meets skin, mouths gasp against one another, and their bodies move higher up on the bed until Marco’s pushing off the floor. Pain shoots through his toe and up his leg. “Fuck.” he breathes against Mario’s lips who nips at them, appreciative and unaware. Marco wants to turn and check on his toe, but once Mario’s body arches and collides with him again the thought leaves and his hands find his boyfriend’s hips instead.

“Marco c’mon.” Mario’s voice is pleading and Marco kisses him sweetly, smothering his words into soft, muffled moans.

He tries to push himself off the floor again but pain surges through his leg again. “Fuck!” It’s louder this time, feels a bit better when he curses and Mario hasn’t caught on yet. Marco thanks whatever god he can think of silently as Mario’s hips grind up against his. He’s not going to let his toe ruin their time together, not this time.

Mario’s whispering his name over and over against his lips, softly pleading for more from Marco and he decides to give it one more go, one more final push to get himself off the floor and into something much more enjoyable but when his foot lifts up this time the shock is too much and he pulls off Mario with a loud shout. “Fucking hell!” His eyes go down to his foot, missing the worry flash across Mario’s face.

It only takes the younger a couple of seconds to realize it wasn’t something they were doing, rather, some external factor and when his eyes go down and settle on Marco’s red and swollen toe he slides off the bed and shoves Marco down on top of it. “When did this happen?” He asks as he lifts up his boyfriend’s foot and puts it on the nearby chair. Marco takes a couple deep breaths, shoving his hands in his own face. He didn’t want Mario to know, didn’t want the love of his life to know he’s injured because he knows what he’s going to force him to do.

“At the BVB game.” he answers finally and Mario let's a disgruntled sound leave his lips and Marco knows he’s already lost. After the fiasco at the World Cup and all of Marco’s injuries after, Mario doesn’t joke around anymore. “You’re going back.”

“Sunny I’m not going back yet! We just started and besides, they probably won’t even start me for Poland.” It’s a lie and they both know it.

“Marco.”

“If it gets worse I promise I’ll go back.” he pleads. He doesn’t want to leave.

Mario lets it slide until the second day in and Marco’s toe is starting to turn purple.

The next morning Marco’s in a car heading for home with Mario waving from the front of the hotel.  
  
“Fuck.” Marco says against his hand as the vision of Mario fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not still sour over ib, no. i also don't feel like this fits the word much either but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> i have a bunch of one shots planned and more stuff for the spies one but i'm like motivation why are you being so picky. 
> 
> thanks as always xo


	13. M

#  **milozvučan**

> _having a sweet and gentle voice that sounds very pleasant to the ears._

There isn’t a time that Mario doesn’t enjoys hearing Marco’s voice.

He likes hearing it groggy in the early morning, before he’s rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a cup of coffee and some water. It’s coarse and reminds him that it’s not all football and rivalries in the real world. He likes hearing it in the middle of the day, wide awake and full of imperfect laughter to match the crooked smile on his face.

He even likes it in the bathroom when his boyfriend is singing along to The Weeknd off-key and distorted under the methodical rhythm of the water hitting the shower door.

“You sound like one of the those reality show stars.” Mario comments as he dries off his face and cleans off the fogged mirror of his bathroom. He can hear Marco laugh beside him, still in the shower.

“I’m going to take that as ‘Woody you have an amazing voice’.” Mario rolls his eyes.

“You’re delusional.” Marco laughs again and Mario looks down at the sink, hand hovering dangerously over the handle. “You’re the delusional one.” Mario says under his breath before twisting the knob.

He enjoys the way Marco’s voice sounds more when he all but shrieks as cold water replaces hot. It’s not long before said individual jumps out of the shower in a less than graceful leap. Mario can’t contain his laughter as Marco stands in front of him mimicking the stance of a household pet that’s been forced to take a bath.

“You’re a dead man Götze.”

Mario can’t stop his laughter as Marco stalks over to him with his arms outstretched. He can’t try to defend himself as the other’s arm wrap around his waist and drag him back towards the still-running shower. He doesn’t even bother putting up a fight as Marco tosses him into the cold water and follows suit a moment later.

“You should see your face oh my god.” He thinks there’s tears collecting in his eyes as he looks over a slightly shaking Marco Reus.

“Yeah well, just wait till you see yours when I get done with you.” Marco threatens and Mario’s laughter gets louder. It’s just too easy now, too foolhardy and light. There’s no maliciousness lining their words; it’s just harmless teasing with an undertone of undeniable affection.

Mario reaches out for his boyfriend despite the empty threat and lets his hands encircle Marco’s wrists, pulling him against his body as the water starts to warm finally. “C’mere,” Mario starts, trying to lean over and kiss Marco, but the latter moves back and out of his reach.

“I’m gonna shave your eyebrows off.”

Mario gasps and shoves Marco away.

“Come near them and I’m going to London for the weekend without you.”

It’s Marco’s turn to laugh now - light as it usually was, twisting his mouth into the same crooked smile Mario can’t ever seem to get enough of. His laughter starts to die down and the grin transforms from hilarity to something sinister and Mario knows he’s in more trouble than the prank was worth.

“You wouldn’t.” Marco sounds so matter-of-fact and Mario hates how his knees almost buckle under the seductive tone and heavy-set eyes. Would he ever not be weak around Marco? (No, and in the back of his mind he hopes it stays that way).

“Wanna bet?” Mario’s egging him on now, knows what’s going to come from it all and presses his back against the wall in anticipation as Marco closes the gap between their bodies once more. “Yeah, I do.” Marco says quietly against the sound of pattering water around them.

Mario doesn’t have the time to open his mouth and throw back another quirk as Marco’s lips cover his own, hungry and claiming, his tongue licking into his smaller boyfriend’s mouth. His hands find Mario’s bare hips and Mario’s comb through Marco’s wet locks. They have a plane to catch in a couple of hours, their bags aren’t packed yet, and Mario’s pretty sure they misplaced their tickets for London, but he doesn’t care.

They can always get another flight, and he can try to drown out Marco’s whining with his headphones when the other can’t put his chair back to get comfortable.

Marco bites his lips and Mario gasps, body arching forward and creating desired friction between the still-chilled bodies. The water’s finally back to a warm temperature and steam starts to envelope the bathroom around them. Hands grab at one another’s body now, needy and wanting as lips and teeth clash against the other’s set and eventually sucking on pieces of skin to leave little lovemarks underneath their jaws and along collarbones.

Marco calls Mario’s name against his neck as his hands cup Mario’s ass who sighs contently.  
  
It’s undoubtedly the sound Mario enjoys hearing most come from Marco’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at first i was going to make this a cute one and then it turned into this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> it's still cute i guess???
> 
> besides replying to my work emails, this was the most productive thing i did today.
> 
> thank you as always! xo


	14. N

#  **nostomania**

> _intense homesickness; an irresistible compulsion to return home._

It’s the middle of July underneath the hot Ibiza sun with the yacht resting a comfortable distance away from the shore. Ann’s next to him laying on her stomach fooling around on her phone, blissful and happy to be somewhere sunny for once. His feet are dangling off the edge of the boat, his fingers drumming some pattern into his phone with a content smile on his face and then all of the sudden -

“I want to go home.”

It hits him out of nowhere, the wave of homesickness. He wants to go back to Germany where it’s probably humid underneath cloudy skies. Desire to have the lingering scent of suntan lotion be replaced by hefeweizen and baked goods underneath the tall city buildings of Munich. He wants to wake up with black curtains shielding his vision from the hot sun beating down on him now, and perhaps most of all he wants to feel a certain set of arms around any part of his body, tattooed and decorated in freckles. 

Ann looks over at Mario finally, her brows coming together with her eyes squinting behind black shades. “Why?” she asks.

Mario sighs and looks down at his lit up phone screen with another incoming message from the very person he wants to be with now. It’s nothing on Ann’s part, they’ve been friends for so long now. To say she didn’t fill his life with joy and enlightenment would be a lie, but it’s so very different from the heat the courses through his body whenever Marco’s nearby; it’s hotter than the sun and Mario wonders if he stays too long in one stationary spot with his love that he will start to burn.

“I miss him.” Mario says quietly, his fingers tracing over the background image of Andre and Marco hugging with blissful expressions on both of their faces - two of his favorite people, happy and together. That’s where he wants to be right now, replacing Andre in Marco’s embrace with his stubbled ginger cheek rubbing x’s and o’s into his skin.

Ann gives him a sympathetic look and sighs as she sits up, tossing her phone onto a nearby chair and finishes the rest of her drink.

“You go back,” she says finally, smiling softly at Mario who’s brought his feet back on the surface of the boat, towel already in his hands and drying off the warm salt water. “I’m gonna see out the rest of this vacation since I earned it,” Mario nods his head in agreement, the idea of cutting Ann’s vacation short because of his homesickness ever-present in his decision to make his yearning heart vocal.

“But you go back, seriously, that’s where you wanna be.”

Mario’s face breaks into a smile and he goes over and pulls Ann into an embrace, kissing the side of her face, cheek, and forehead before she shoves him away with a laugh. Mario can’t say thank you enough, so he whispers something against her hair and disappears underneath the boat to get his things in order; all he needs now is his passport, ticket, cellphone, and wallet. If seeing Marco again meant leaving the rest of his belongings in Ibiza, Mario would. Hell, he’d fly back in his underneath if it meant seeing Marco’s crooked smile waiting incognito at the airport for him.

A few hours later he’s on a plane back to Germany, destination updated with a pretty penny gone from his expenses, but in the back of his mind Mario knows that it’ll be worth it to see Marco’s startled face when he appears on his doorstep.

It’s late when Mario makes it back to Germany, jet-lagged and yearning he makes his way through the streets of Dortmund and up the staircase that leads to Marco’s apartment. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he twists the lock and steps inside, quickly shutting the door behind him and bolting to the bedroom. 

“I’m- what- I got a bat- what-” Marco slurs against his pillow, trying desperately to get the body off him and wake up in the process - Mario laughs and settles on his hips when he finally stops squirming and settles on his back. Mario leans down, hands threading through Marco’s red hair as his lips cover Marco’s thin set.

“Mario?” he asks, thoroughly surprised and considerably more awake.

“I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why does mario have to suffer for marco's ankles to be safe???? why???
> 
> at least we got a selfie out of it but forreal mario get well soon.
> 
> thank you as always xo


	15. O

#  **oniochalasia**

> _the shopping or purchasing of objects as a form of mental relaxation and stress relief._

It wasn’t often that Marco agreed to go shopping with Mario. Most of his shopping excursion involve him going alone, hood up and trying to stay out of direct public attention or the rare times that his and André’s schedules overlap and they could spend the afternoon trying on the ugliest shirts and pants they could find to send pictures of to Montana, Mario, and Ann.

This time is different. This time he wants a break from it all; injuries have kept them both out of international duty and the restless of being in separate training has starting to get the best of Marco. He knows he should be used to it now, it’s happened enough in the past couple of years, but there was a key piece missing.

Mario. 

When injuries first started to plague Marco, Mario was still in Dortmund with cotton candy kisses and sunny touches to remedy his faults. Sure, he still has the rest of Dortmund to lean on (some more than others) but it just doesn’t feel the same at the end of the day. The years of them being in different teams has finished though; the initial wound of being left in favor of something new has since scabbed and healed. His smile is still the same, his mind ever growing and learning, his love for Mario is just as strong - life seems to be as good as it can be on a personal level.

“Marco.”

It dawns on Marco finally that he’s spent the last ten minutes staring down a mannequin in the store that Mario had lead them into, only blinking he eventually hears his boyfriend whispering his name from the other side. A smile breaks out across Marco’s face against his better judgment.

“You’re making a weird face, stop it,” Mario gives him a cautious look as he comes around the side of the awkwardly posed statue and tugs on the ends of Marco’s sweater. “Someone’s gonna notice you if you keep doing stuff like that.” The grin on Marco’s face stays even past Mario calling him a loser.

“I’m just happy to be here with you. That’s all, no need to freak out Sunny.”

Mario doesn’t look like he believes Marco, but he stays silent and disappears into the nearby clothing racks. The blonde follows after him obediently, watching with contentment as Mario ducks through the different sets of clothing with ease and a set mind. It seems so easy now, to just allow himself to get lost in the moment that is now, that is Mario, that is the two of them doing something so trivial and domestic it affords Marco the chance to forget, ever-so briefly, that they’re world famous football stars. It gives him a taste of normality.

The moment passes as Mario shoves a couple of shirts into Marco’s arms and points to the dressing rooms behind him. “C’mon loser.”

Marco doesn’t move, the bunched up shirts in his hands and starts to look around the store. There’s a clerk further down to the left with their head poking out the top of the racks but their eyes hidden from immediate view, and no one to their right. The smile on Marco’s face grows as he bends down to an unimpressed Mario. “Make. Me.” 

Mario rolls his eyes and shoves Marco back. 

“Now is totally not the time or the place.” Mario turns around and heads towards the dressing room.

Marco scoffs and eventually follows after him, dragging his feet as he mumbles a soft, “It’s always the right time though.”

After twenty minutes of Mario trying to literally pull the shirts over a very uncooperative Marco whose hands refuse to touch his own body, instead trying to pull off Mario’s shirt; the younger gives up and leaves Marco alone telling him to come out when he’s ready. Ten more minutes pass before Marco comes out with a dejected frown on his face. “We’re supposed to be having fun Sunny.” 

“Not that kind of fun.”

“Well...”

“Marco.” 

Marco sighs and puts his hands up after Mario takes the shirts out of them. “Fine, fine. Later?” He holds his breath as Mario eyes him carefully before nodding. Marco resists throwing his hands up in the air in triumph.

They leave the department store with their bags tucked safely in their hands, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move through the crowds of people in the mall. With the holidays coming up, no one is looking at the faces of the people they pass. Instead their visions are fixed on store windows and overhanging signs with deals printed in right, neon colors, and for once Marco is happy the mall is crowded.

“Wanna get anything else while we’re here?” Mario asks after they grab coffees at the cafe. Marco’s quiet for a moment before he gets up suddenly, puts his bag down on his chair, and holds up his fingers to signal he’ll be back in two minutes.

He disappears and in two minutes is back with a plastic bag tucked under his arm. “You weren’t kidding.” Mario notes and Marco sits back down, looking over his shoulder as he pulls his hood back up over his head. No reason to get sloppy about being incognito now.

“What’d you get?” Mario sips on the edge of his coffee cup and Marco tries to play footies with him under the table.

“The new Drake album. André said he knows the lyrics better than me so I need to practice.”

Mario smiles and nudges Marco’s foot back under the table with a laugh.

“Uh, you’re both wrong. I know them the best.”

Marco leans over the table slightly, hands wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee in front of him. 

“Wanna bet?” 

They decide it’s too childish to run to the car and would certainly attract too much attention to them so they take it slow, throwing harmless jabs at one another as they make their way out to the parking lot. Marco opens the doors once they get there and once the doors shut, he leans over and kisses the side of Mario’s mouth. “Today was fun.”

Mario smiles gently,  “You’re literally the most difficult person to shop with.” but he grabs the sides of Marco’s face and kisses him back properly.

“Get ready to lose this bet though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND I KNOW WHEN THAT HOTLINE BLING  
> THAT CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING
> 
> i just ??? my friends and i have been singing this for weeks, there is no end in sight, but it will be a pleasant death. adult life is kicking my ass rip being an adult is not as fun as the movies make it look.
> 
> i'm sad there aren't as many gotzeus updates. marco stop posting pictures with auba and send mario some social media get better soon's. 
> 
> thank you as always. xo


	16. P

#  **pretoogjes**

> _"fun eyes"; the eyes of a chuckling person who is up to benign mischief._

“What’s that look for?” Mario narrows his eyes suspiciously across the team table to Marco and André looking back at him. International break has finally started up again and while Mario is elated to be back with his countrymen, he’s always weary when the two blondes across from him start whispering amongst themselves.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” André shrugs and continues smirking.

“Marco.”

“Oh no.” André reaches beside him and covers Marco’s mouth with his hands. “It’s a surprise Mario so you’re just gonna have to deal with it.” Mario looks away from his friend to Marco, who seems to have accepted André’s hands over his mouth, and simply shrugs. The tip of Mario’s tongue presses against his teeth and his arms cross over his chest as his back pushes against the back of the chair.

Breakfast finishes as it started. Mats is off to the side joking with Podolski and Julian, Christoph is picking the scraps off of Neuer’s plate, and the rest are throwing idle conversations about and laughing lightheartedly. Mario tries not to be sour, he doesn’t really believe there’s anything to be sour about, but being left out on the joke settles underneath his skin well after Jogi has separated them for practice.

He’s too preoccupied looking at his feet as he stretches to notice that Marco has come over to him. “Hey,” his boyfriend says in a low voice, a voice Mario recognizes all too well, but stubbornly keeps his eyes on his cleats. “Heeeey. Sunny! Stop ignoring me.” Marco’s voice is persistent and Mario can feel the corners of his lips subconsciously start to twitch upwards.

He knows his eyes have started to crinkle in a smile when he finally makes eye contact with Marco who then flashes him a grin. “Stop ignoring me, we’re partners.” Mario picks up on the softer tone in Marco’s voice, free from the teasing tone it had held moments ago. There’s something heavier in the way he says the last part; we’re partners. Partners on the pitch, partners in life, partners in love. Mario’s heart starts to swell; it’s all been sitting at the edge of a very full cup lately.

The injury last year set him back, the lack of play time at Bayern even more so. Countless nights have been spent sitting on the balcony of his apartment watching the lights on the busy streets of Munich zip by with their own plans and lives on track while he wonders about his own. Ann cooks him dinner almost every night and watches television with him, a warm smile on her face that Mario appreciates more than he can ever vocalize.

Thomas and Jérôme keep him occupied in practice, laughing and joking and planning their exploits come the Euros. Even Mats has been supportive, calling Mario up on weeknights to chat about aimless things. The phrase ‘don’t give up’ has been something Mario has heard over and over again from so many different voices and so many different eyes. He doesn’t want to give up, never has, but life is hard and weighs down even the best of people.

“Sunny.” Marco’s voice rings out in his ears.

Mario comes back to it when he notices that he’s gripping Marco’s hand a bit too hard as they stretch, his boyfriend’s brow furrowing as he leans in closer. “What’s going on in there?” Mario laughs and shakes his head. Like Marco can’t guess, like he won’t be able to figure it out in ten minutes when they’re alone, when it’s just the two of them and their collective heart beat. “Everything?” Mario laughs. It sounds tired and restless at the same time. Marco squeezes back against his fingers until the tips of his start to turn white.

“Mario.” It comes out like a warning now, and Mario almost cringes. Maybe in all their years together he wasn’t giving Marco enough credit. They didn’t need to be alone anymore for his significant other to pick up when something was bothering him, and certainly less time to vocalize it and offer support. Mario feels his throat tighten as he squeezes back against Marco’s fingers.

“I’m fine, c’mon, let’s keep practicing.” What was most important now was practice, preparing for the Euro, and for their friendlies. It was about staying ahead of the game and offering any kind of support he can to the national team and all those attached to it. He smiles meekly over at Marco who just deepens his frown. Of course that wouldn’t work, Mario thinks, and sighs.

No one is paying any attention to them, not even André who has taken up keep away with Rüdiger and the Kevin’s, and Mario is positive that’s why Marco comes up and throws his arms around Mario’s neck. “You wanna know what André and I were talking about earlier at breakfast?” Mario bites his lip as Marco’s voice comes as a warm gust of wind against his ear. It’s not really on his mind, it became buried underneath everything that was still dangerously close to overflowing and spilling everything.

“I guess so.” His voice doesn’t sound too convincing and in no surprise Marco just laughs against the side of his face. “Not with that attitude you’re not.” Mario rolls his eyes and blinks hard a couple times before digging his fingers into Marco’s ribs.

His boyfriend laughs and wiggles slightly, still keeping his arms locked around Mario’s neck. “C’mon Sunny, I think you’ll wanna hear it.” Mario sighs again, louder, with laughter dusting the edges of his voice as he finally asks again. A moment passes, they can hear Mesut and Mustafi laughing and Toni yelling something back in return. It’s calming, Mario thinks, that this is what he has to look forward to this summer.

When Marco seems satisfied enough, he pulls back but lets his hands stay wrapped around Mario’s neck, locking their eyes together finally. Mario notices the crooked grin he wears oh-so-often now and finds it hard to hold back his own smile. One of Marco’s fingers brushes over the lingering hickie underneath Mario’s ear from the night before.

“I was telling André about how proud of you I am and he called me an idiot in love. Can you believe that?”

Mario tries to hold back his tears. “Can’t believe we’re still friends with him.”

Marco’s voice is like a breath of fresh air, of the promise that everything will be okay in time.  
  
“Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch  
> bet you thought you'd seen the last of me
> 
> i have been struggling to write for so long now. i chalk it up to mario being injured, my full time job status now, and just general sdgfhdf-ness. work is going well though! i really love my job even if i'm working+driving like 55+ hours a week. 
> 
> i'm gonna try to get this monster finished though. after seeing mario score today with the national team and marco's smile i feel rejuvenated. truly.
> 
> xo thanks as always!!


	17. Q

#  **quatervois**   

> _a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life_ _._

“Mario.”

Marco’s voices comes heavy against Mario’s ear, a soft laugh following the way his fingers brush across the short hairs on the back of his head. He doesn’t turn around; merely presses his back against Marco’s solid chest and hides a smile in the softness of their bed’s pillow. The national team is back together for a couple friendlies before the tough part of the second season comes into play for the various leagues.

There’s cup games that need to solidified, the Bundesliga still pressing on, and on, and on with the never-ending power struggle. It doesn’t give them much time to see each other. Their dates mainly set between the occasional phone call, Skype video chat, and daily text messages sharing nice little snippets of their days. Mario talks about how well training is going after injury, Marco talks about some dumb prank he and Pierre pulled in the locker room after their last home game.

It’s nice, they’re used to it now. They don’t try to lie to each other and hide that they miss one another, rather, try to look on the brighter side of international duty besides the pride and glory they feel after each call up from Jogi.

“I know you’re still awake Sunny.” Marco’s breath tickles his ear again, Mario’s skin prickling as his lover’s lips lay claim to the faintest outline of a freckle underneath his left ear. He debates not answering, to have a little bit of fun in the late hours of their first night at the hotel before practice starts and their time for jokes are limited to harmless banter thrown about the pitch.

But he doesn’t; Mario rolls a bit, shifting under the weight of Marco’s arm strewn across his waist and leans in to press their foreheads together with a bright grin.

“And?” Mario asks, voice laced with temptation and bait to which Marco flashes his own grin and leans to nuzzle their noses together with a content sigh. It’s a sense of endearment and propitiatory that Mario mimics as his hands find the tousled auburn hair on top of Marco’s head, more fluffy now then gelled like it will be tomorrow morning.

He tilts his head, Marco leans forward, their lips meet and eyes close.

“And I wanted to do that. Among other things.” Mario laughs against Marco’s lips when the reply resonates through their otherwise silent room after they part. Fingers run through one another’s hair, lips curve from teasing, to love, to complement. Two stars modeled at different times coming together over and over again to form a constellation of the future promise of German football.

They aren’t the same young hearts from two-thousand and thirteen. The bitterness is gone; replaced by mutual understanding and support. The longing remains, but with each kiss shared between their lips another burst of energy is sent around the universe between them. This is temporary, they tell themselves in the dark - things will come and go, they’ll change and it won’t always be as easy as holding one another in the dark room of a hotel tens of feet above the ground.

But they’ll preserve, for they have each other.

‘Thrive and survive’, is what Ann tells Mario every time it feels harder.

‘Don’t give up now’, is what Pierre tells Marco in the dark part of a club surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

So they don’t.

Marco laughs against Mario’s cheek as a loud thud from the room behind their head breaks the quiet of their moonlit relaxation. Thomas’s voice comes as a muffled sound of joy as Manuel yells at him and says he wants to go back to sleep, or back to Christoph’s room. The retort is even louder than the thud and now the sound of doors being opened and shut throughout the hallway join the fray.

“Should we go see what’s going on?” Mario asks, not convincingly as he hides himself deeper into the warmth radiating off of Marco’s bare chest. Marco responds with a soft ‘nah’ and loops his arms back around Mario’s waist, barely making a sound louder than a hum as Mario’s fingertips continue to massage his scalp. “We’ll probably see something we don’t want to anyway.”

It wouldn’t be the first time and it certainly happened to their teammates with them in the early stages of their relationship; long nights filled making love instead of sleeping, much to the disarray of their friends and their embarrassment at the breakfast table the next morning. It’s still like that to some extent, the longer periods between international break and holiday give them less time than they want to touch each expanse of skin on their beloved.

“Exactly. Let’s have André find out and tell us about it tomorrow.” Marco’s voice finally croaks through, slightly groggy from almost falling asleep. Mario chuckles and Marco cracks open one of his eyes and looks down at the sun-kissed ring of light brown on the top of Mario’s head. “Besides, if you don’t want to go back to sleep yet I know something we can do to pass the time.”

It takes Mario less than a second to catch onto the heavy tone of Marco’s almost slurred words, even less to bite the inside of his bottom lip when he feels the taller man’s hands move up and down his back with a feathery touch, lingering for half a second more against curve of his ass. “You sure you’re not too old to be up this late?” Despite his comeback, Mario moves closer to Marco’s body and lets his hands slide out of red hair to the top of Marco’s shoulders to the protrusions of his shoulder blades.

“Better watch your mouth Sunny.” Playful and voice hot against the shampoo scented hair atop Mario’s head, his hands skimming around the sides of his lover’s hips and against the front of his waist.

“Or what?” Mario’s lips press against Marco’s collarbone and suck. The other moans and digs his nails into the tan skin of his lover.

“Or I’ll have to make you.”

A second passes; the noise next door has died down finally to a soft simmer that neither of them can make out anymore. Their breathing is too hard between the two of them, the sound of their heartbeats intermingling with one another and thrumming against eardrums. A steady rhythm of love and desire; a melody only they know. Marco quickly lets go of Mario and turns him on his back, crawling on top of him quickly to capture his lips in a kiss that’s almost more tongue and teeth than lips. It’s not as if Mario minds.

Hands find hands find the pillow underneath Mario’s head. Hips grind against hips, chests swell and panting sounds almost like an ambient soundtrack picked up at a local gift shop for tourists. Marco parts first with one last drag of his teeth along Mario’s lower lip before sitting up in the space between his thighs. “Got anything to say now Sunny?” Another temptation, another promise of hot, hot heat and passion.

Mario doesn’t answer. He tries to find his breath before looking up at the man he loves almost too desperately above him with lowered lashes. For a brief moment he hopes it’ll always be like this; like they don’t have a worry or care in the world besides one another. That no matter what, certain things won’t change and they won’t have to work hard anymore.

But he stops and shakes his head and shines the smile he knows Marco loves above all else. Hard work is what got them to this point, hard work would be what keeps them here, with one another, and in love.

“Nope.”

Mario shoots up fast and almost knocks Marco off the edge of the bed, but only his head lulls off the edge as Mario’s lips and teeth and love find the side of Marco’s neck. So what if he leaves a mark, so what if the world sees it tomorrow or the day after or for the rest of their lives. It doesn’t matter anymore, he tells himself. As long as he has Marco and they’re willing to try, no one else matters.

The morning of their first game the marks on Marco’s neck are on full display. A couple whispered comments from their teammates, a knowing but an otherwise silent Jogi pats them both on the back as they warm up on the pitch. They can already hear the cameras snapping pictures of them, but Marco just smiles at Mario and Mario rubs the back of his neck and looks down at their feet with his own affirmation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens when you listen to adele's 'when we were young' at 10PM at night on a saturday.
> 
> i'm trying to get back in this writing this i swear to god. i think with the euros coming up I'll be able to keep my muse much better. it really comes and goes because of work which has been slightly unbearable these past two weeks but you know
> 
> thrive and survive and don't give up on your dreams.  
> hard work is the best policy. 
> 
> i have this really nice bakery AU that i've been talkin to my friend about that i'm slowly chipping away at and with those new NT photos of them in suits i've got more ideas for my spies AU that i've really let go untouched for too long. 
> 
> thank you for any and all kudos and comments. xo


End file.
